


Dexter Morgan and the Apocalypse!

by Inu_Sama



Series: DEXTER [1]
Category: Dexter (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, F/M, M/M, Slow To Update
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-02
Updated: 2019-03-02
Packaged: 2019-11-08 00:33:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17971061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inu_Sama/pseuds/Inu_Sama
Summary: "It was an accident."They both stare at him incredulously and Dexter feels an inkling of what might be embarrassment scratch at the pit of his stomach, but it's too weak to really do anything so he leaves it be and just stares back."How...how do you accidentally save someone's life?"





	Dexter Morgan and the Apocalypse!

"It was an accident."

They both stare at him and Dexter feels an inkling of what might be embarrassment scratch at the pit of his stomach, but it's too weak to really do anything so he leaves it be and just stares back.

Typically, Debra is the first to look away, she never could hold his gaze for more than a few seconds, not since they were kids. When they hit twelve or so, he became the undefeated champion of their little staring contests.

Till this day he still didn't fully understand why, he just knew that it was kind of insulting the way she always backed down when it came to him. _Especially_ when she was usually such a fiery personality with a 'Don't take shit from anyone' attitude.

Did she think he couldn't handle it? He may not experience emotions like normal people but he sure as heck had things like pride and ego.

"How…" Debra's brows are scrunched and her eyes are wide with incredulity as she looks in his general direction like she's contemplating if her brother is even of this world anymore.

Doakes looks like he's wondering the same thing, but with a more negative connotation. Dexter wouldn't be surprised if the good detective thought saving him had been part of a bigger master plan to destroy the world or something stupid like that.

 _'Well,_ **_I_ ** _didn't do it, but Doakes got his wish.'_ Dexter amended somewhat bitterly. The apocalypse was officially upon them, the precinct was one of the first hit by the chaos.

"How do you _accidentally_ save someone's life? How is it an _accident_ that you dragged Doakes all the way here and proceeded to _protect him_ until I could find you?" She asked, voice pitched low so as to not attract the attention of the recently deceased.

They were holed up in one of Dexter's safe houses (and didn't the good detective give him a _look_ for that) that was out in the byou so they had a small reprieve from…them.

But that didn't mean they could be careless. The trade off for being so far out in the middle of nowhere was that the forests around them provided too good an opportunity for threats to sneak up on them, be they human or the flesh-eating dead.

Dexter sighed and peeled out of his ruined shirt, tossing the more-gore-than-fabric v-neck into the corner by the door to be disposed of later.

"I dunno Deb, maybe because when he heals up a bit he'd be invaluable to our survival? Does that utterly selfish and cold answer realign your world view any?" He asked sardonically as he strode into the bedroom to pull down the go-bag he'd made months ago.

He missed the blush on her cheeks and Doakes' wide eyes as they both took in his more than 'I like to swim on sundays' fit build. He found a dark long sleeve and quickly pulled it on, exiting the bedroom with the duffle bags.

"You're a dick, you know that?" His sister eventually managed, but her words were undercut by the fond grin tugging the corners of her lips.

He grinned at her with far too many teeth than was polite, simply for the benefit of seeing Doakes uncomfortable before he twisted around to dump the bags on the fake leather couch with a muffled thump.

"Why _the fuck_ do you have duffle bags full of clothes?" Doakes blurted, hissing when his jeans tugged at the bullet would in his thigh as he shifted forward on the couch across from him.

Dexter wanted to roll his eyes - and as fun as it was to rile the man up, now wasn't the time to get the good detective spitting mad. He might just end up injuring himself further, making himself useless and a burden for longer than Dexter was willing to tolerate.

"Not just clothes." He replied simply, pulling out the small first aid kit from the front pocket with one hand while he grabbed a couple protein bars and a bottle of water that he tossed to Debra almost carelessly.

Dexter sat down on the glass coffee table in front of Doakes, his sudden proximity making the man nervous.

 _'Heh, he should be. Without the law to protect him, there's limited reasons for me not to kill him considering how much trouble he's put me through.'_ He thought, gripping the man's calf to drag him forward and to the side so he had access to the upper thigh region.

Doakes swore at him but made no move to stop him from cutting open his jeans to see the damage. It wasn't clean, the telltale glint of metal lodged in the meatiest part of the thigh.

Dexter tsked and shoved back his sleeves, this was going to be annoying. Idiot was lucky nothing important was hit.

Doakes flinched when he swiped an antibacterial pad over the wound, eyes glued to Dexter's hands as he spread the skin apart to see how far down he was supposed to dig.

He was vaguely aware of Deb calling it a day and taking the only bed, no doubt exhausted from the last 24hrs. They'd booked it from Miami proper and hadn't stopped until they got here, plus the whole mental strain of _'holy shit the world's ended and everybody I either know or loved is probably dead'_.

For him this whole apocalypse thing was more of an inconvenience than something that would topple his world view.

"Relax, right now I'm more interested in making sure I survive--safety in numbers and all that rot." Dexter murmured as he bent over the wound with a pair of sterilised tweezers.

He tried not to let how much he enjoyed hearing Doakes hiss and swear in pain show on his face too much. But, judging by the annoyed glare he was sent, he didn't entirely succeed.

"What about Debra?" he asked through gritted teeth, clearly trying to distract himself from the pain. Dexter met his gaze briefly, amusement fluttering behind his ribcage and curling his lips before he yanked the bullet out in one smooth motion.

Doakes cried out as Dexter sat back, dropping the slug onto the coffee table with a loud _tink!_

"Of course I'll do my brotherly duty and look out for her, as I've always done. Whether it's from perverts or dead people doesn't change that." He said simply with a shrug, pointedly not saying that if it came down to it, he would most likely save himself before anyone else.

Wouldn't want his sister to choose that moment to listen in on their conversation and get all moody, that would be annoying.

Doakes eyed him like he knew what he had just thought and was torn between instinctive disgust and mild respect. Dexter raised his brows in challenge, but the man just glared at him and turned his head, effectively ending the conversation.

Dexter made quick work of stitching the good detective up, his hands steady and stitches efficient and neat. As good as any real doctor - he didn't graduate top of his class for nothing after all.

"Thanks." Doakes said somewhat begrudgingly, looking over his work as Dexter wrapped it up. Dexter snorted and stood, packing up the kit and shoving it back into one of the duffles.

"Just stay off that leg for _at least_ a week. I would say three to four but--" Dexter cut him a sharp look that made him flinch. "I don't have _that_ much patience."

Plus, a week should be enough time for the dead to run out of 'food' in the city and start to branch out. They would be sitting ducks then.


End file.
